The Gift of Death
by LockedAndLokied
Summary: Death's list is an eyesore. It's long and just keeps getting longer with names of souls all over the universe. But as Death checks over the list, he spots a name on the list. A name that has been on the list twice before, yet has not been successfully reaped yet: Kal-El. This time, however, Death is very determined to collect this troublesome soul. He plans on doing it personally
1. Dear to Death

Death quickly ran over the list.

He could scan through a day's worth of names in a second, so it was rather easy work. A bit boring, but Death did not mind it much.

He was three months from the present when he paused.

A name had caught his eye. Rarely do names catch Death's eye. He had seen so many names from so many planets that it was nothing new for him any longer. Yet, this one caught his eye. Ah, yes, he had seen this name before.

Death never forgot a name. And he certainly never forgot the name of a soul that had thwarted him twice before.

Kal-El, from the late planet of Krypton.

The soul was supposed to perish along with the rest of the planet, but a tiny mishap and miscommunication between his reapers, and Kal-El was shot off of the dying planet.

However, Death does not hold grudges. Should a soul manage to escape him, he will let them go until their time comes again. After all, everyone will come to him in the end. Death is in no hurry. He has waited longer than nearly every being. What is another hundred years to him? A thousand? Nothing but a blink of an eye.

And Death was right. Kal-El's time did come again. He had landed on Earth, been found by a human couple and raised as their son. However, when he was eighteen, he had been on a plane with a group of his classmates. The plane was hijacked, and he as well as the rest of his class, was doomed to die.

But Kal-El saved nearly his entire class, along with several other people on the plane. Death was a little annoyed by this, being cheated of a handful of lives, as well as Kal-El's own for a second time.

But still, Death did not become angered. He let Kal-El live his life, and now, his name was on his list once more.

But this time, Death was determined to gather his soul. Even if he needed to collect it personally.

Death called for Richard.

A young man in a dark cloak walked in. He bowed before Death and lowered his hood, revealing pale skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes.

Richard was the only living being in the Palace of Death. He was a special case.

About a decade and a half ago, Richard's parents were on Death's list. However, the reaper sent to take Richard's parents could not shake the young, distressed child. The young Richard could not see the reaper, but his soul had latched onto his parents, so the reaper could not take his parents' souls without taking his.

And Richard's name was not on the list, so the reaper was no allowed to take him.

Death was called in, and even he was a bit baffled by the situation. Never had he had this happen before. There have been situations in the past where souls have melded together, but the souls all happened to be collected together.

Death checked his list again, but Richard Grayson's name did not appear on it. In fact, his name was not on the list until eighty some years from the present. Death called in his brother, Life, and Life managed to keep Richard's soul intact with his body while Death transported his parents' souls to the Palace.

There, John and Mary Grayson's souls were carefully separated from their son's. However, in doing so, a part of Richard's soul also broke off and went off with theirs.

Life deemed Richard defected and unable to live his life to the fullest now. And so, Death took pity on the young child and took him in.

Death cared for Richard dearly, and he believed that Richard returned the sentiment, but they never really spoke about it.

Richard helped Death out around the palace. He was Death's apprentice, in a sense. They had a professional relationship. However, behind closed doors, once there are no reapers in sight, their attitude towards each other relaxes.

"Dick," Death said, using the name the young man preferred. "I will be taking a short trip to Earth. There is something I need to check up on."

Dick cocked his head to the side. "Earth? Why there? Thought you hated that planet."

"I do not hate any planets," Death said. "But I do find it… slightly more distasteful."

Dick shrugged. "Whatever you say," he stepped up to Death's throne, waving his hands at Death.

Death, should he be holding a human form, would have glared at Dick. But even so, he moved over on the throne. Dick plopped himself down in the small space and kicked his legs up on the arm of the chair, over Death.

He plucked the list from Death's hands and scanned down the list.

"So what do you want me to do?" He asked. "Sit here and pretend to be you?" Then he smiled. "Actually, that might be fun." He made his face blank and spoke with his voice lowered, flat, and monotone. "'Reaper, go forth and bring me the souls of," Dick glanced at the list. "Rosaline Moore and-" He broke character for a moment and squinted at the list. "Goodness, Thanatos' handwriting is horrendous." He blinked up at Death. "You should give him penmanship lessons."

Death did not laugh. "Do not insult my scribe's handwriting. It is not horrendous. Your writing is horrendous. You think I have not seen you notes to Barabarous?"

Dick went slightly red. "You saw those notes?"

"She did show me."

Dick gracefully kicked his legs off of the throne. He flipped, his head hanging off of the seat and his legs hanging over the back of the throne. "Do I have no privacy here?" He whined.

"I do believe," Death said dryly. "If you wrote those shameless letters on any planet, they would be the subject of gossip."

"Gossip?!" Dick gasped, his head popping up. "You guys gossip about me? I thought you were all doom and gloom!"

"I do not gossip," Death reminded gently. "I cannot say the same for my reapers. I find they often indulge in gossip. It may be because they spend too much time on Earth. Though, it is not my fault humans have such short life spans." Death's voice was tinged with a bit of annoyance when he spoke again. "Dick, get your feet off of the throne. Have some respect."

Dick put his hands on the ground and kicked off of the back of the throne. He flipped over and stood, smiling. "Sorry. It's just fun to climb. So what _do_ you want me to do in your absence, oh inescapable Death?"

"Do not call me that," Death said. "Just make sure everything continues running smoothly. Assign reapers to each name. I have gotten up to two months from the present day. Continue from there forth. And, do not bother assigning anyone to Kal-El. I shall be personally meeting him."

Dick grinned. "Ooh, what's so special about him?"

Death did not laugh, nor did he smile. "I shall make sure he does not thwart me a third time."

Dick smirked. "Oh, _that_ Kal-El." He took the list again. "Alright then. I'll make sure everything is smooth sailing."

"There is no sailing involved, Dick."

"Never mind. Have a safe trip!"

Death stood, and the second he vacated his throne, Dick sat down on it and kicked his feet up. Death decided to let it go.

"Thank you, Dick," Death said.

Dick nodded. "Sure thing, bye!"

And Death headed to Earth.

* * *

 _A/N ~ So I'm writing this right now. It will be updated at least once a week, but I can not guarantee that this site will get the updates on time. Thanks for your patience!_

 _Leave me a comment! 3_


	2. Not Here To Kill

Death found Kal-El on Earth, in a city called Metropolis, coincidentally close to the city in which Death found Dick.

Kal-El was working on an article for a newspaper called, the Daily Planet. A bit of an odd choice for an alien trying so desperate to blend in with the rest of humanity.

But Death did not judge. He was not the one who decided a soul's worth. He only regulated when someone was done using Life's gift, regardless of whether they believed so or not.

Death watched Kal-El. He went by the name Clark, it seemed. He was not the teenager that saved his classmates, and he definitely was not the crying baby shot off of his home planet.

In fact, he was the opposite of how Death expected such a person to turn out.

He seemed shy, blushing easily from his co-workers' teasing antics. He wore thick glasses, though Death knew he did not require them. How the humans did not see through his disguise, Death could not fathom.

Death watched, invisible to the eyes of the humans, as Clark chatted quietly with a lady, Lois Lane, her name was.

"-last night!" Lois hissed, glancing over her shoulder. "Where the hell were you, Kent?"

Clark swallowed and looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Lo," he said quietly. "I was busy. Forgot."

"Forgot?! You always forget! It's a miracle you're not fired yet!"

Clark grinned sheepishly. "I know, I'm sorry."

Lois rolled her eyes. "You made me look like a fool. I promised to show my friends my giant teddy bear of a friend."

Clark blushed red. "Sorry."

Lois smiled a little. "You're such a pushover. Grow a pair, Clark. Stop apologizing for everything."

Clark opened his mouth to apologize again, but was shut up by a sharp glare from Lois. He looked away quickly, but his lips quirked up in a small smile as well.

Death was getting bored. Humans bored him easily. They had such mundane lives. Not even Clark, reporter and journalist extraordinaire, Kal-El, one who escapes Death twice, and Superman, savior and hero of Earth, could interest him.

Death got ready to leave. Suddenly, Clark stood. He looked out the window, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit, so miniscule, no one else would catch it, but Death did. His interest aroused the slightest bit.

"What's wrong?" Lois asked. "What is it?"

Clark shook his head. "Nothing. I just remember… I left my stovetop on."

Lois glared at him. "Seriously? You're so forgetful!" She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, hurry up. I'll cover for you. But you owe me lunch now!"

Clark ran out, thanking her and promising to bring her lunch when he comes back. Death saw right through his lie. And as Clark ran up to the roof, quickly undoing his work clothes and stuffed them into a trashcan that had been strategically placed there.

Then, he dropped his glasses on top, redid his hair in a flash and flew off. Death watched the entire time. He was mildly surprised. Maybe this one was really different. He followed Clark, now Superman, to the other side of the city, where a bank robbery was taking place.

Death watched from the sidelines as Clark easily incapacitated the criminals and delivered them to the police within five minutes. It was rather impressive, compared to the humans level of competency that is.

The humans that crowded around to watch cheered when Clark emerged. He waved politely and respectfully apologized to the reporters before flying off. Death followed.

Clark stopped at his apartment, quickly cleaning himself up and making himself look more presentable, before flying to a sandwich shop where the owners gave him a free sandwich, despite his attempts to pay them. Then, he flew back to the Daily Planet. There, he got dressed in his work clothes, redid his hair, and walked calmly back into the office. The entire ordeal took fifteen minutes.

Death was thoroughly impressed. No wonder no one suspected anything of Clark Kent. He was good.

Clark went back to work, and while Death was bored out of his mind, he decided to stay around, just in case anything else happened. Death studied Clark and his co-workers as he watched.

From what he could tell, Clark had no illnesses or symptoms of any. He seemed to be in perfect health, and the bulletproof chest seemed rather impenetrable to him. So how will this man die? Death was more and more interested now, and he vowed to stick around and find out.

Usually, Death does not care for any creatures on any planet. They all meant nothing to him. Their lives insignificant and over in a flash. He does not pick favorites, nor does he hold grudges.

But Lois Lane was getting on his nerves a bit.

Death wanted to shut her up, maybe immobilize her vocal chords for a while, but he was bound by rules not to use his powers for evil. Death needed to stay neutral, like all other primordial beings.

Finally, Clark gathered his things up, made a few promises to finish the article that night, and headed home.

Death followed once again.

Death floated, invisible, behind Clark as he walked up the dark stairway to his apartment, then fumbled for the key. He nudged the door open, dropping his coat and laptop bag onto the couch before stretching and yawning.

He headed to the kitchen, washed his hands and opened the fridge. He stared into the fridge for a few moments before closing it.

Then, he turned and looked around the kitchen.

"I don't know what you are," he started. "But I know you're there. You've been following me all day. It's making me uneasy, so if you don't mind, show yourself."

Death wondered for a moment if Clark was speaking to him. Then he realized, of course he was speaking to him. Death would have noticed if another being had been following Clark around all day.

Death was surprised however. In the few trips away from his palace, no one had ever noticed his presence until it came for them to die. Sure, some people felt slightly uneasy, but it was usually because Death appeared only a few moments before the person's time was up.

He had never bothered following someone around before.

Death took a moment to figure out how to show himself. If he showed himself in his true form, Clark may attack him. While he could not exactly hurt Death, Death was not fond of being hit.

So he picked a human form.

Death slowly materialized, as a human with a similar height and build as Clark. He wore a black suit, a black shirt, and a black tie. His skin was pale, and his eyes a dark midnight blue. His hair was also black, and he wore a blank expression on his face.

Clark did not seem all that surprised to find someone materializing in his kitchen.

He looked Death up and down.

"Who are you? Or, what are you, if that's not too rude? I mean, you've been following me around all day, and I did not feel very threatened, so I'm assuming you're not here to kill me?" Clark asked.

Death found his words tinged slightly with irony. He opened his mouth to speak. It felt odd to use a mouth to speak. "I am not here to kill you," he started. "And I do not wish to tell you who I am. But I mean you no harm."

Clark looked a bit dubious, but he nodded slowly. "Okay, but I am assuming you know who I am?"

Death nodded. "You are Kal-El of Krypton. Known on Earth as Clark Kent and Superman. Yes, I know who you are."

"Then do you have a name? You know my name, so it's only fair I know yours, right?" Clark said.

Death paused. "I do not have a human name. I do not wish to reveal my true name either."

Clark pursed his lips. "Well, you know my true name, so I don't see why I can't know yours. But okay, um, what do I call you then?"

Death shrugged. "Whatever you want, I suppose. No one has ever 'named' me before."

Clark laughed, but Death did not. He did not know what was funny.

"Okay," Clark said. "I'll name you after an old friend of mine. You both have the same blank expression. His name was Bruce. And now, so are you."

"Was?"

"Ah, he, ah, died a couple years back," Clark said, looking more uncomfortable now.

"Ah. My condolences."

"So is it okay if I call you Bruce? I don't- I don't want you to think you're a replacement for him or anything. No one can replace him. Not that you're not a great person, er, whatever you are, either. Um, sorry," Clark shut up and twisted his hands behind his back.

Death stared at Clark for a moment, trying to decipher him. But the only human Death has really had interactions with is Dick. And even Dick was missing part of his soul. He was not completely human anymore, though Death never really found anything wrong with him.

"I suppose so. I certainly do not mind." Death, or as his newly christened human name, Bruce, said slowly. "But I sense distraught coming from you. You are afraid of something."

Clark's eyes widened. "No! No, no, I'm not afraid. Heh, no."

Bruce's eyes narrowed slightly and he tilted his head to the side the slightest bit, like Dick does when he is confused. "I apologize. I am not exactly proficient in reading human emotions. Tell me, what is this emotional anguish of yours?"

Clark blushed. "Just… I'm just a bit nervous. It's nothing." He quickly changed the subject. "You speak of humans like you are not from Earth? Are you from another planet?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes, I am not of Earth."

"That's cool. Me neither, but you already know that," Clark said. "There are actually quite a few outer worldly people here-" he stopped. Then Clark took a deep breath. "Sorry, I ramble a lot."

Again, Bruce felt confused. "No, you do not," he said. "When you talk with your friend Lois Lane, you speak little."

Clark blushed again. "It's… different."

Realization seemed to dawn upon Bruce. "Oh, I see. Are you attempting to court her? I understand. I suppose it is a better tactic than the one my protégé uses."

Clark opened his mouth then closed it again. His face turned red. He quickly cleared his throat. "So why have you been following me around?"

Bruce contemplated how to answer. "You caught my interest." He decided to go with. Stay close to the truth, but do not tell the whole truth. "I was passing by, and you fascinated me, so I decided to stay and watch a while. I did not mean to be intrusive."

Clark shook his head. "No, it's fine. Again, I don't feel threatened by you, and I can read a person's intent pretty well."

Bruce nodded. "Thank you for your time. I shall by taking my leave now. It has been nice to meet you, Clark."

Clark nodded and smiled briefly. Just then, he blurted out, "Do you care to stay for dinner? Or do you eat at all? I don't know, sorry…" he trailed off.

Bruce was surprised yet again. Bruce did not need to eat, no, but he had never tried human food either. Clark looked slightly hopeful, and Bruce decided maybe it would be a good opportunity to learn more about Clark. After all, he had surprised Bruce a handful of times already.

Bruce nodded sharply. "I believe I can stay a while longer. However, I have never tried human food. What do you enjoy to consume?"

Clark beamed. "Well, we can either eat a restaurant, or we can order in."

"Which is more convenient?"

Clark bit his lip. "Ordering in, I guess."

"Then, I presume that will be the better choice."

Clark smiled shyly. "Okay. I'll just… order some of everything and we can see what you like?"

Bruce nodded. "Whatever you wish."

Clark went into the other room. He dialed a number on his phone and named several things Bruce had never heard of. A couple minutes later, he came back into the kitchen.

"They'll be here in twenty minutes," he said. "Until then, um, we can just talk. Do you want anything to drink? I'm sorry, I forgot my manners."

Bruce shook his head. "I am fine, thank you."

Clark chuckled. "Why do you speak so formally? You sound like you stepped out of one of Shakespeare's plays, without the 'thee's' and 'thou's'."

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed. "William Shakespeare died over four hundred fifty years ago."

Clark gave him a strange look. "You are very interesting. Now, if you're planning on staying on Earth for a while, you'll need to learn to fit in. Sorry, but you can't go around and follow everyone while invisible. Some people don't take it as well as I do."

Bruce knew that much was true. He nodded. "I see. How should I speak then?"

Clark looked him up and down. "Well, you sound a bit… hm, posh. Use some contractions, you can slur your words a bit more, no need to make them so exact."

Bruce thought about it for a moment. Then he tried again. "Is this more acceptable?"

Clark nodded. "It still sounds a little forced. Try relaxing. And don't bother with the big words. Conversationally, keep things short and simple, I believe is best."

"Okay…" Bruce thought about each sentence before he spoke. "Is this… better? I feel like…" His mouth quirked up in half a smile. "my… child? But he is not- isn't my child. My charge, I sup- guess. He is human, and he speaks like you do."

"You have a human child with you?" Clark asked, eyebrows shooting up.

Bruce shook his head. "Not with me. He is back… on my planet. I rescued him a while back, and took him in as my protégé."

"That's nice of you," Clark said. He stared at Bruce with an odd expression on his face. Bruce could no categorize it. It was not an expression Clark had used with any of his co-workers today.

Before Bruce could ask, the doorbell rang, and Clark jumped up to answer it. He spoke with the person at the door, paid them, and brought back three bags of food.

Bruce eyed the bags. "Is that not too much food for the two of us?"

Clark shrugged. "I can always use leftovers. And I can eat a lot, so no worries."

He set the food out onto two plates, giving Bruce a little bit of everything, then handing him a fork.

Bruce hesitantly speared a chunk of meat of some sort and brought it to his lips. He closed his mouth around the food and chewed slowly. Clark watched him the entire time.

"What do you think?" Clark asked excitedly.

Bruce swallowed. "It is certainly interesting. But I don't hate it," he said, fixing his vernacular halfway through. He felt oddly proud of himself. "An acquired taste."

Clark laughed and dug in himself. "Never heard of anyone saying food is an acquired taste, but I suppose it is, I suppose it is."

* * *

 _A/N ~ I really do not like the entire system this site has for publishing. It's a hassle, haha. But anyway, here's the second chapter! Third chapter is written, but I have yet to publish it._

 _Let me know what you think! 3_


	3. Touch and Go

When Clark woke up the next morning, he was feeling really good. Bruce had left after dinner, insisting Clark rest, and promising to return soon.

Clark had not bothered showering since he had talked with Bruce for so late. But he did decide to take a relaxing shower before work.

He stepped out of the steamy bathroom, and immediately feel a new presence in the room.

"Bruce?" he called, looking around his bedroom while drying his hair with a towel. "That you?"

A figure materialized by the door. A tall man, dressed in all black, with cheekbones and a jawline that was as sharp as Clark's heat vision. "It is me," he said.

Clark felt heat rising up his cheeks and Bruce looked him down. "Sorry, just came out of the shower. I'm going to get dressed right now." He waited.

Bruce blinked at him. "Go ahead," he said.

Clark went redder. "Uh, if you could just step outside for a moment. It's- It's just privacy, sorry."

"Oh, I apo- sorry," Bruce said. "I forgot that humans require privacy for certain activities." He stepped through the door, as if he were a ghost.

Clark quickly got dressed and opened the door, stepping out. "Um, so do you want breakfast? I can make something before work."

"I don't require food," Bruce said mildly. "But you should eat something."

Clark shook his head. "Oh, no, I don't usually eat in the mornings. I don't need to eat much. It uh, it makes it easier on a reporter's salary, as well."

Bruce nodded. "So you are going to work now?"

"Yeah. Are you going to follow me again today?" Clark asked, fixing his tie and grabbing his laptop bag as well as his coat.

"Would you prefer I did not?" Bruce asked. "I can stop, if you would like."

Clark shook his head. "Oh, no. No, I don't mind. You can- You can watch, if you'd like."

Bruce smiled the tiniest bit. "Okay, I will follow you again today."

Clark smiled. "Alright. But if we bore you, you are free to leave whenever you would like." He opened the door. Then he looked at Bruce. "Oh, wait. Can anyone else see you?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not unless I want other people to."

Clark nodded slowly. "Okay, then I may not talk to you then. My co-workers think I'm strange enough as is."

"I understand."

* * *

Clark found it a bit hard to work that day. Bruce wandered around the office, peeking over his co-workers' shoulders, squinting at screens, peering into cold coffee mugs, and making slightly unpleasant faces at gossip.

Clark found it slightly endearing and a little bit funny. But after Lois gave him a look at his shy smile and his roaming eyes, he quickly looked back down and pretended to work.

Bruce came over after a tour of the office, standing behind Clark to watch he was doing. Clark tried to pretend he was not there, but it only made it harder. He knew Bruce was not judging him, but he could not help but sit up straighter, and hope he did not have a horrible cowlick on the back of his head or something.

He was so concentrated on making a good impression that when Lois snapped her fingers in front of his face, he jumped. A blush quickly raced up his face.

"What's with you, Smallville?" She asked. "You're acting weird."

"I- I am? Oh, yeah. I didn't- didn't get much sleep. Was working on the article," he stammered, seeing Bruce's dark figure out of the corner of his eyes.

Lois frowned at his for a moment. "Whatever you say." She started to turn back to her work, and Clark was almost relieved when she snapped back around. "Hey, why don't we go out for lunch today?"

Clark's eyes widened. "Today?"

"Yes, today," Lois said. "And you can tell me whatever's eating you up."

Clark blinked at her several times. "Nothing's up!" he said quickly. "I'm fine, I promise."

"Okay, then. We can still go out for lunch. Maybe Mediterranean?"

Clark sighed. "Yeah, okay. Mediterranean is good."

Then, Lois leaned in further, touching Clark's arm. Clark stiffened ever so slightly.

"And I meant it. If you ever need to talk…" she gave him a meaningful look.

"Yeah, okay. I'll keep that in mind. But really, I'm fine," Clark said. Lois nodded and finally turned back to her work.

Clark did the same. He started typing again, and a few moments later, from behind him, "You are feeling nervous again," Bruce's voice said.

"What?!" Clark yelped, both surprised and slightly embarrassed. Everyone around him gave him a strange look. Clark smiled at them sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry."

"Lois Lane spoke with you, and now you're feeling heightened anxiety," Bruce elaborated.

Clark opened his mouth to deny what Bruce was implying, but he decided he did not need to make his situation worse. He would explain later. So he shut up and continued typing, ignoring Bruce.

"You seem to enjoy her company over that of your other co-workers," Bruce mused aloud. "She is certainly an interesting woman."

* * *

Lois drove them to a Mediterranean restaurant, by the bay. They took a seat outside, on the balcony, overlooking the water. While Clark and Lois chatted about the trivial things, Bruce stood behind Lois, leaning against the glass balcony, and looked at the bay. He watched cars, glistening under the sun, drive over Gotham Bridge, and he wore the same blank expression as always.

Strangely, Clark found it slightly endearing. Clark knew that Bruce was not from Earth. And he had previously implied that he had been on Earth before, but had not stayed long. He did not seem to like the planet very much, nor did he care much for the things living on it. Even so, Bruce did not mean the planet any harm, which only made Clark more curious as to what he was doing here.

Sure, he claimed that Clark caught his eye as he was passing, but did the other not have better things to do? And even stranger, Clark was not all too worried that Bruce knew so much about him when Clark knew practically nothing about the other man.

"Is it Sylvia?" Lois asked, taking a long sip of her strawberry lemonade. "C'mon, you can tell me if it's Sylvia."

Clark blinked, snapping his eyes away from Bruce, and back to Lois. "S- Sylvia? The new secretary? What's Sylvia?"

"Do you like her?" Lois asked. "I promise I won't tell. But don't lie to me, Clark. I know when you're lying."

"I mean, Sylvia seems nice," Clark said. "But if you're asking if I like her, then no, I-"

"Then who is it?" Lois asked. "Someone's been distracting you. And if you say it's nothing again, I will smack that lovesick expression off your face the next time I see it," Lois warned.

"Lovesick?" Clark hissed, gasping a little. He blushed hard. "I- I am not lovesick!" His eyes immediately went to Bruce, who was, thankfully, still staring at the bay.

Lois raised an eyebrow. "You seem oddly defensive."

"I'm not being defensive," Clark argued weakly. "Really, Lois. I'm fine. Just haven't been feeling up to par, but I'm really okay. Thank you for being worried, but there's nothing to worry about."

Lois stared at him hard for a while, narrowing her eyes. Then she leaned back. "Okay, but I'm watching you. You don't fool me for a second, Clark Kent."

The rest of lunch went smoothly, and Bruce never moved from his spot behind Lois.

* * *

Someone had injected the animals at Metropolis City Zoo with a steroid serum that made them expand rapidly in size and adopt a raging, rabid behavior. They had trampled out of their enclosures and were currently terrorizing people between 4th Street and Marvin Avenue.

Superman was on the case. He subdued the animals with little problem, a few scratches here and there that healed immediately, but there remained the problem of getting them back to their original sizes.

It was tiring work, since some of the stronger animals would just break through the ropes as soon as Clark tied them up.

Bruce stood on the sidelines, watching silently.

Clark growled as he dodged the maw of a giant tiger. "Bruce, you can- can help out, you know!" he shouted as he bound the tiger's legs with more rope. He would be out of rope really quickly. Clark looked around for a solution.

"Try finding their natural pressure points," Bruce suggested casually.

Clark was willing to try nearly anything at this point. He swung onto the enraged tiger's back just as it burst through its bonds, swiping at the air, and taking down a nearby store front as it did. From behind him, a huge rabbit crashed through a bank.

Clark pulled his fist back and punched the area of the tiger's spine right under its neck, between the large shoulder blades. The tiger froze, then crumpled to the ground.

Clark climbed off its back and surveyed the animal. It was alive, but out cold. He nodded at Bruce. "Thanks."

Bruce gave him half a smile and Clark grinned. Then he went off, pushing at general pressure points, hoping they were the right ones. Most of the time, he was right. But some took a couple tries. The large viper was the hardest. As far as Clark could tell, it had few pressure points. But a strong punch between the eyes made the reptile collapse like the others.

Clark then dragged the animals all into one pile.

"Watch them," he instructed Bruce. "I'm going to get the antidote." He shot off into the sky.

He found the man who had released all the animals, a zookeeper that had been experimenting with the animals' food. He quickly gave up the antidote after some reprimanding from a stern Superman.

Clark returned to where the animals were all piled up, injecting them all one by one. He watched as they shrunk down back to their original sizes, still out cold, however.

He waved Bruce over, with a proud and satisfied smile on his face.

"Look at them all!" He cooed. "They're so cute. C'mon, help me get them back to the zoo."

Before Bruce could protest, Clark placed a couple rabbits into his arms. Bruce recoiled harshly, and before the rabbits hit the ground, they were dead.

Clark stared at Bruce in shock, and he met Bruce's wide eyes. Clark dropped to his knees and gently picked up the limp, unmoving bodies.

"What…?" Clark looked up at Bruce again.

Bruce stared at his hands in horror. Then he looked at Clark. "I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "I- I did not mean to," he said. He quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. "I apologize, Clark. Sincerely."

Clark stood up slowly. "Hey, it's okay. Um, we can explain to the zoo, it's fine." He reached out to Bruce, but the man stepped back quickly.

"Don't touch me," Bruce said. It sounded more like a warning for Clark's sake than a threat.

Clark's expression became worried. "It's okay, Bruce. You won't hurt me," he said soothingly.

Still, Bruce stepped back. So Clark let his hand drop. "Okay, it's fine. I'll just get these animals back to the zoo, and we'll talk, alright?"

Bruce stared at the two dead rabbits in Clark's arms for a long time. Then he nodded. "Okay," he said quietly.

Clark quickly gathered as many of the smaller animals as he could and carried them to the zoo. He made a total of three trips. By the time he had returned for the final time, Bruce was leaning against a destroyed car, looking solemn and a bit emptier and blanker than before.

"You- You want to go back to my apartment?" Clark asked awkwardly.

Bruce looked at him. He stared at Clark for a long time. Then he nodded.

* * *

Bruce sat in the kitchen chair, his hands clasped in his lap. He stared at the ground hard. Clark floated around his kitchen, still in his uniform, first making Bruce tea.

He held the mug out to Bruce, who stared at the cup for the longest time. Then he looked up at Clark.

Clark's eyebrows furrowed, then his expression softened. He set the mug down on the table and retracted his hand.

Slowly, Bruce reached for the mug, taking it in his hands. He did not seem to realize the mug was steaming hot.

"So, what was with the freak out?" Clark asked gently.

Bruce did not look up. He frowned ever so slightly. Then, he closed his eyes slowly. He took a deep breath, and Clark held his own breath, awaiting an answer.

"I can't- I can't tell you," Bruce said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Clark asked. He tried not to sound frustrated with the beautiful, yet sadly distressed man in front of him. "It's okay, Bruce. I know it is like to have powers you can't control or wish you didn't have."

Bruce's frown deepened. "I can control my powers," he almost snapped. "I've never… that's never happened before."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked. "You've never accidentally killed anything?"

Bruce tensed at those words.

"You didn't kill anyone on purpose, did you, Bruce?" Clark asked, his voice rising a bit.

Bruce looked up sharply. "No!" he exclaimed. "I did not kill anyone! I do not kill!"

Clark's face was as blank as Bruce's usually was. Bruce searched his face, hoping for some sort of slip. But not even him, Death, could pick out what he was thinking underneath the perfect poker face.

And for some unfathomable reason, it made him feel guilty. Clark had looked and sounded disappointed in Bruce. And Bruce could not bear it. His heart thudded in his chest, and weird, contradicting feelings fluttering around inside him.

Bruce did not like those feelings. Some of them felt like the fondness he felt for Dick, but stronger and more uncomfortable as well as different.

Bruce finally broke the silence. "I apologize, Clark," Bruce said. He set the mug down. "I did not mean to offend you in any way. I believe I have overstayed my welcome. I should leave now." He stood, turning away as Clark processed Bruce's words. "Thank you for your hospitality, Clark Kent. You are a good man."

He spun around just in time to see Clark reaching for him. Bruce violently swept backwards, knocking his chair over. The thumping of his heart grew to extreme measures. He could not help but let the emotions of horror and betrayal dictate his expression. His eyes were wide, and he clasped his bare hands to his chest.

He had nearly killed Clark.

As quickly and silently as he arrived, Bruce disappeared from the planet.

* * *

 _A/N ~ Sorry this took a while. I forgot to update on this site, oops._


	4. The Palace, The Gardens, The Courtyard

Bruce stood at the entrance of the Gardens, his eyes closed as he caught his breath, stilled his rapidly beating heart, but did not bother changing his form.

Bruce strode into the Gardens, fully intending to find his sister and demanding an answer out of her.

Fortunately or unfortunately, she wanted to be found. She was at the center of the Gardens, sitting on her throne of beautiful, everlasting flowers. But mixed in the blossoms were a variety of poisonous plants: hemlock flowers, nightshade branches and berries, gorgeous oleanders, and small white snakeroot flowers.

Love sat on her throne, gently stroking her flowers, and under the black veil that covered most of her face, Bruce saw her smirking.

"Why, little brother," she said in a sweet, sultry voice. "How kind of you to visit me. And in a human form, what a surprise," she purred.

Bruce glared at her. He crossed his arms and pinned Love firmly with his scowl. "What did you do to me, sister?" he asked coldly.

"Not even a hello?" Love asked, feigning hurt. "You do not come see me in a few centuries, and now you show up, demanding I give you information you do not even know I have?"

"Stop it, Love," Bruce said. "This is not a game. What did you do to me?"

Love laughed, loudly and cruelly. "Oh, baby brother, I did exactly what I've been planning for close to a couple millennium now."

"What?!" Bruce hissed. "What have I ever done to you, sister? Have I not given you space? I do not meddle in your business, and you do not meddle in mine!"

Love stood. Her long, dark red dress pooled down around her, hugging all her curves just perfectly. When she walked towards Bruce, every step was perfectly balanced, and she moved with grace and elegance.

"You do not meddle in my business?" Love asked, tauntingly. "Now, it is not like you to lie, D."

Through gritted teeth, Bruce asked again, "What did you do?"

"Oh, since you asked so nicely," Love said. "I put a little spell on you, bro."

"A spell?"

"I am rather fond of spells," Love said. She circled around Bruce. "And it looks like it is working very well, seeing that you came running here so quickly. Alas, I wish it had taken you longer to figure it out."

"Remove your spell at once," Bruce demanded. "I did not ask for these… these feelings."

Love's lips curled up in a sneer, revealing teeth. "You do not understand, do you? I cannot just remove a spell. Once I plant the seed," Love waved her hand, and in her palm, a small ball of red smoke appeared. "I have no control over it. Sure, I may provide a little water, a little sunshine," The ball of smoke started sprouting tendrils of smoke. "But in the end, it either thrives and blooms on its own, or throttles itself and dies." The tendrils grew, becoming a beautiful rose, before being wrapped in its own thorns and dying.

"Don't you see, baby bro," Love said, leaving the rose hanging in the air. "I cannot simply remove the spell for you. You will either learn to live with those feelings, or they will consume you from the inside out. Hm," Love's smile turned even more cruel. "I wonder if Death can die."

"What have I done to deserve this, sister?" Bruce asked. "Please, see some sense."

"You've killed all my lovers!" Love snarled. "You took their lives way before their times!"

"I do not decide who is to die!" Bruce yelled. "That is Fate's job! I just reap the souls and oversee the deaths!"

Love laughed coldly again. "I highly doubt that. All of my most successful lovers? Romeo and Juliet, Cleopatra and Antony, Paris and Helena, Pyramus and Thisbe…" She trailed off. "And that is only on Earth. But I do find it ironic. Death shall meet his match on that damned planet. He certainly cannot kill himself, can he? And when he realizes that love beats death, how could he ever bear to kill dear Clark Kent?"

Bruce's fists clenched. "Sister… do not do this."

Love reached up and slowly lifted her veil. "Have you forgotten, sweet brother? Love may seem beautiful, but her ugly side is always hidden until the right moment," she said. Bruce glared into Love's misshapen face.

Her nose was crooked, and there were ridged skin like her face had scarred over and over again. One of her eyes drooped lower than the other, and they were both pitch black. She had course black hair, thick, but sparse. She was mostly bald. Love smiled fully this time, revealing all her needle sharp teeth.

"Forgot what I looked like, brother?" she growled, the sound coming out raspy now. "Need you a reminder?"

Bruce did not flinch and glared at her. "Sister."

"Yes, Death, my good brother?" she hissed.

"I do not give up without a fight."

She laughed out loud, throwing her head back. "I was hoping you'd say that," she chuckled darkly.

Bruce spun on his heels and walked out, disappearing the moment he stepped outside of the perimeter, leaving the Gardens of Love behind him.

He went to the Courtyard of Life.

Bruce practically runs inside, glancing around wildly for his brother. As he ran around a corner, Bruce runs straight into him.

"Death?" Life asked, catching his brother in his arms. "Are you okay? What is wrong? Brother, speak to me!"

Bruce had to take a moment to catch his breath. Life's pale and worried face hovered in front of his eyes, both of Life's thin hands clasping Bruce's face.

Life, too, was in his human form. Life loved the humans, and often wore their form. His true form looked exactly like Bruce's, except well, much paler.

Life's sharp green eyes always surprised Bruce. Then again, it may have made Bruce uncomfortable if Life had white eyes.

"I'm fine," Bruce managed. "I just- I just need to talk."

Life, relieved, stepped back. "Then come. We will go somewhere private." He took Bruce's hand and started leading him away from the center of the bright sunlit courtyard, into one of the rooms built around it.

"What happened?" Life asked as soon as they sat down.

Bruce took a deep breath and started explaining. "Love, she put a spell on me, and now she refuses to remove it."

"Our sister? Why has she done such a thing? I thought we had an agreement."

"As did I," Bruce agreed. "But she claimed to hold a strong grudge against me."

Life frowned. He took Bruce's hand in his. "But brother, you have done nothing wrong. Oh, what is this spell? You are not hurt, are you? Has she done anything despicable?"

Bruce shook his head. "It will not hurt me physically. But… But she cursed me to fall in love. With a man who will be dying soon." Bruce's voice cracked. "And I planned to take his soul. I do not know if I can take his soul now. I do not wish to, brother." Bruce looked at his twin brother pleadingly. "Is there any way you can help me?"

Life shook his head sadly and pulled Bruce into a hug, which Bruce gladly melted into.

"I am sorry," Life said softly. "You know that my powers and your powers cancel each other out. We are not more powerful than one another. I cannot undo what you do, and you cannot undo what I do. We are also bound by the rules, have you forgotten?"

Bruce shook his head sadly. "No, I remember. I just wish…" he sighed heavily. "Thank you, brother, for being here for me."

"Of course. But if I may ask, what do you plan on doing now?" Life inquired.

Bruce was silent for a while. "I do not know."


	5. Mittens

Bruce sulked in the Palace for the rest of the day. He closed himself off in his own chambers, not allowing anyone to see him.

That is, excluding Dick.

When the young man knocked, Bruce reluctantly let him in.

Dick pushed open the heavy onyx doors and peered inside, his eyebrows raising.

"Moping in human form? That's a first. Both the moping and the human form," Dick said.

"I don't want to talk about it," Bruce growled into his pillow.

"And the bed? I didn't even know you had a bed! And oh, contractions! Who are you and what have you done with Death?" Dick asked, swooning exaggeratedly.

Bruce rolled over and glared at Dick, who gasped and clutched his heart. "A glare!" he shouted.

"I do not find that entertaining, Dick," Bruce said. "You are making jokes at the expense of my unease."

Dick quickly stopped. "Sorry," he said, but he was still smiling. "So what's up? Your trip to Earth didn't turn out the way you wanted? Did Kal-El refuse to die again?"

Bruce gave him a disapproving but troubled frown. "No," he said slowly. "It's my sister."

"Which sister?" Dick asked. "Aunt Harley or Aunt Selina?"

Bruce's face became confused. "Who?"

"Aunt Harley, she makes me call her that when she's in her human form. Your younger sister, Fate? Or, Aunt Selina, your older sister, Love."

"Selina? What kind of name is Selina?" Bruce asked aloud.

Dick frowned. "I think it's okay."

"Of course you do, Dick," Bruce said. "You're too nice for your own good."

"So do you still go by Death in your human form? I'm assuming not, since you would have only adopted a human form if you were going to walk around visibly on Earth. So what did the humans call you? Or what do you call yourself now?"

"Clark calls me Bruce."

"Clark? Who's Clark?"

"Kal-El. It's his human name."

"Ohh," Dick said. "And what did Aunt Selina do to you? I'm assuming it's her? Because Aunt Harley is fun."

"Yes, it's your Aunt Selina," Bruce said, practically spitting the name. "But I will figure this out. By myself."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, big guy. So how is the planet faring?"

"Surprisingly well," Bruce said, glad to have a change of topic.

Dick was silent for a little while. "Do you… Do you ever think you'll take me?" he asked. His voice was oddly strangled. "I don't really remember what it's like. In fact, I don't know if I made up those memories at all."

Bruce stared at Dick for a while, trying decipher what he was feeling. Dick rarely asked for anything. In fact, as far as Bruce could remember, he never did. He only took what was given to him, and he was content with it all.

"Do you want to go see Earth?" Bruce asked.

"A little," Dick said. "It's fine, though. I get it. It was hard getting me from Earth to the Palace, so I'm assuming it would be too much to do it again. It's okay," he said, smiling. "Hey, are you going to be taking over your duties again, or should I keep doing them?"

"Do you mind taking over for a little while longer? I… I'm going to go back to Earth."

"Yeah, sure," Dick said brightly. "How long will you be gone this time?"

Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. Longer."

"Oh, okay. I'll keep things running for you." Dick started out of the room.

"Hey, Dick," Bruce called after him.

"Hm?"

"I'll take you back to Earth someday. For your twenty-fifth birthday, maybe," he said. He smiled slightly at the way Dick's eyes lit up. "Now, go."

Dick practically skipped out of the room.

* * *

Two and a half weeks had passed. Bruce was a little surprised, but time never passes the same in different planets.

Bruce was afraid to approach Clark. So he learned from his previous mistake and kept his distance. He still watched Clark, but from afar.

When he arrived on Earth again, Clark was working. Bruce stood on the building across the street and watched him work. Bruce could hear their conversations and he could see everything perfectly, as if he were there.

Clark was talking with Lois again. They were talking in hushed voices, their heads leaned in towards each other. Bruce felt that their conversation was private, so he did not actually listen in.

Bruce watched them, and a dull ache bloomed in his chest. Bruce gritted his teeth together. Clark seemed to be faring well. Maybe he'd already forgotten about Bruce. Bruce felt stupid. He should have never interfered. He should have just waited until the date and then come to Earth. But no, his pride got in the way.

Now, Love got her revenge, and Bruce had no choice but to deal with it. And Bruce, knowing both Love and notorious spells, there will be emotionally painful after effects for the rest of his existence, which would be forever, as far as he could tell.

Bruce sighed, looking up at the sky. The bright sun hurt his eyes, but he did not look away.

"Why me, sister?!" he yelled up at the sky. He did not know if Love could hear him, but he just need to yell out his frustrations. "Why him?!"

There was no answer, as he expected. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The dull throbbing had gone away now that he was not looking at Clark and Lois.

His hands curled around the edge of the building. "I love him," he whispered to himself, still not opening his eyes. He slowly opened his eyes back to the skies. "And I wish I could despise you, sister. But I cannot. So I am sorry. Now please, remove your spell."

Nothing happened. So Bruce just sighed and closed his eyes again.

* * *

When Clark went home, Bruce reluctantly followed. He knew he should not feed the desire to watch Clark, to be near him. But he could not help it.

Bruce stood on a balcony of the apartment building across the street, and he watched Clark move around his kitchen. He moved with such ease, despite being a bit clumsy and awkward. It was an odd mix, but it worked.

Just then, Clark turned to look out his kitchen window, his eyes landing exactly where Bruce was standing, invisible.

Clark cocked his head a bit, then looked away slowly. He could still feel Bruce.

So Bruce decided he might as well reveal himself. He moved to Clark's kitchen, where the other man was washing the dishes.

"Where did you go?" Clark asked, without turning around.

Bruce slowly materialized. "Back home."

"Hm, and how did that trip go? Did your family miss you?" Clark asked.

"I do not have a family," Bruce said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Me neither, so I guess we have that in common…" Clark trailed off. "So why're you back after only two and a half weeks?"

"I had unfinished business here," Bruce answered.

"Oh? And did you finish that?" Clark asked.

"No yet."

"And I'm glad you're back," Clark said, though his voice sounded slightly different this time. Bruce wondered if he was lying. "But why me? I can't be the only interesting alien on Earth, can I?"

Bruce did not answer this. He did not know how to give an excuse that would sound real.

"Oh, not going to tell me that? It's okay."

"Why are you acting weirdly?" Bruce asked. "You did not act like this before."

Clark finally turned. He blinked a Bruce once before grinning. "I didn't? Hm, I'm just happy today, I guess."

"Happy? No, I don't… I don't think this is happiness. It's not nervousness either. What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing important. I've just been doing a lot of stuff recently. Normal stuff… Like, cleaning, going to work, saving the world, building relationships…" he trailed off. "Anyway, you want anything to eat?"

Bruce shook his head slowly, still unsure how to take Clark's new attitude. Clark was lying about something. "I am fine, thank you."

A silence followed those words, and they just stared at each other. Clark leaned against the counter and Bruce sat at the kitchen table. Bruce was lost in his eyes for a brief moment, and he forgot to breathe. In his defense, Death did not need to breathe, so he often had to consciously remind himself to take a breath before he passed out.

"Did I anger you?" Clark asked, breaking the moment.

"Anger me?"

"When you left," Clark said, almost sadly. "You ran off so fast, I thought, maybe you were upset about something you said."

"I was not upset at you, Clark," Bruce said. "No, far from it." Very much far from it.

Clark breathed out in relief. "Okay, that's- that's good. So um, will you freak out if I gave you a hug?"

Bruce's tensed up and gripped the table. "Do not hug me!" He said. "You could-"

Clark frowned. "You're still…?"

Bruce nodded slowly. "Sorry."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," Bruce said softly. Clark looked hurt, and it hurt Bruce to see him like that. He wanted Clark happy, otherwise he did not feel happy. "I can't touch you. I can't touch anything living."

"Oh."

"Please believe me," Bruce said.

Clark nodded. "No, I believe you," he assured. Then he looked up, a smile slowly spreading on his face. "I have an idea."

He ran out of the kitchen and a moment later, returned with a thick pair of mittens. He tossed them to Bruce, who looked at the ugly woolen things.

"You… expect me to put these on."

"Yes."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at Clark, but seeing Clark's excited expression, he slipped the scratchy cloth over his smooth hands. It felt very odd. He could not move four of his fingers on each hand.

Suddenly, Clark held out his hand. Bruce looked at him like he was crazy.

"I'm not going to touch you!" Bruce exclaimed.

"It'll be fine," Clark assured. "You're wearing gloves now."

"Mittens. And you do not know they will prevent any-"

Before Bruce could finish his sentence, Clark grabbed his hand. Bruce gasped and tried to pull his hand out of Clark's, but Clark held on tightly. He ended up wrenching his hand from the mitten.

But Clark kept smiling at him. He did not slump down into a lifeless heap, which Bruce was infinitely thankful for.

"See," Clark said softly. "It's okay now." He hands the mitten back, and Bruce slowly puts it back on. This time, when Clark reaches for his hand, he does not wrench it away.

Bruce felt his heart going at a million miles an hour, and along with it was a fluttery, twisting feeling in his gut. He looked from their hands up to Clark's face.

Clark's smile was blinding, and he looked happy. Bruce smiled as well. He could not help it. He made Clark happy. Maybe not as happy as Lois made him, but Bruce was possessive of the little bit of Clark he did have.

"So," Clark dropped his hand, and Bruce crashed back to reality. "Takeout and a movie?"

"Yeah, okay."

* * *

 _A/N ~ Yayy, finally caught up! Hope you enjoyed because I don't know when I will next update, haha._


	6. Pains and Sorrows of Love

It turned out, Bruce did not need to be physically visible to everyone, or touch living things, in order to help Clark out.

He had powers that, as far as Clark knew, had no end. He had changed the ugly woolen mittens into sleek, black leather gloves, and he could do chores faster than even Clark could. But there were only so many things Clark needed assistance with around the tiny apartment.

For example, Bruce had admitted that Clark's job bored him, so he opted to stay away while Clark worked, but he did pop in a few times a day to talk to Clark (one-sided conversations, those were). Once, Clark returned home because he forgot his files, and he found Bruce in his bedroom, meticulously organizing all of Clark's clothes and making slight adjustments to them.

And from that day on, Bruce did not allow Clark near his own closet. Something about "no fashion sense" and a "lack of organization". Clark did not mind that much. He enjoyed playing dress up with Bruce every morning.

While he did feel a bit embarrassed to stand under Bruce's dark and intense gaze in only his underwear, he also took this time to look at Bruce.

Clark is always so busy between being Superman and his day job that he rarely had a chance to date many people. Sure, he's gone on a few one or two time dates, but it's never exactly gone further than that. It did not help that he was always worried he would hurt his date in some way.

But with another strange, alien being practically living in his apartment with him, Clark could not help but feel more than platonic things. It was odd, since Clark had always gotten to know a person pretty well before going on a date with them. And while Bruce had been around for a few weeks now, he really did not know anything about him.

He had no idea what Bruce's real name was, what his true identity was, what he was, or what he was doing on Earth.

And even more strange, and rather unnerving, Clark did not mind so much.

At first, Clark thought it was because he reminded him of his friend Bruce, but now, Clark was not so sure. Sure, Clark also may have had a tiny crush on his now deceased friend for a while, but the two had two entirely different mannerisms. Clark liked to think of this Bruce as emotionless because he did not understand humans, not because he just was. This Bruce also did not mind Clark talking.

Unfortunately for Clark, this Bruce was not at all interested in Clark the way he was interested in him.

Clark never once caught Bruce's gaze lingering on him, nor did the man blush or give away any emotions whatsoever, other than he occasional freak outs whenever Clark got too close. But Clark held on to the scrap of hope of it being because Bruce did not want to hurt Clark.

"Your tomato plants require water," Bruce said, breaking through Clark's thoughts.

"Hm? I don't have tomato plants, Bruce," Clark said, looking up from his book. He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses.

Bruce was standing in his kitchen, holding out two small pots, where sure enough, tomato plants grew. He held them at arm's length.

"Where did you get those?" Clark asked, sitting up. "They're not mine."

"I realize that," Bruce deadpanned. "I found them in the alley by your apartment. Someone left them there. They would have probably died, and I believe you would have taken them."

Clark's eyebrows rose. Then he laughed. "Yeah, I think I would have." He stood. "Put them on the balcony. They can get sunlight there, and I'll get some water."

And when Clark turned around to fill a cup with water, Bruce did not smile fondly at him before walking through the screen door and set the plants on the balcony.

"Clark."

Clark hummed quietly and turned over, opening one eye.

Bruce hovered over him, frowning slightly. "I believe you should wake up now."

Clark yawned. "Why's that?"

"You are very late for work."

Clark peered behind Bruce at the clock. Bruce was telling the truth. He was nearly an hour late. It was nearly ten. But he just smiled and stretched.

"Oh, I have the day off today," he said, yawning.

"I do not understand."

"I just don't go to work today. I get to relax, do whatever I feel like," Clark explained. He sat up and rolled his neck in a circle.

"Oh." Bruce seemed to have a bit of a difficult time processing it. "So what will you do today?"

Clark shrugged, kicking his covers back and slipping out of bed. He grabbed his towel off his dresser and started towards the bathroom. "Not sure," he said. "I'll figure it out in the shower."

Clark spent ten minutes in the shower, thinking about how to spend his rare day off. Usually, he slept in until noon, then just lounged around the house.

But he did not feel like doing that today. It was a change in his usual day-to-day schedule that Bruce had previously witnessed, so he wanted to do something fun.

"Bruce!" Clark called once he got dressed. He fumbled to flip his sweatshirt back out.

Bruce walked through the wall. It was funny that Clark had gotten used to him doing that.

"Yes?"

"We're going on a picnic!"

"A picnic? What is a picnic?" Bruce asked. "It is not like the raw fish chunks you decided to feed me previously, is it?"

Clark laughed, finally pulling his sweatshirt over his head. "No, it's not like sushi. It's… I don't know how to explain it. But I think you'll like it. It's simple and relaxed. No stress, no planning, and fun."

Then Clark frowned at Bruce. "But you are dressed way too formally for the occasion."

Bruce looked down and made a confused face. "Why is that? No one will see me."

Clark pursed his lips. "See, I would look like an idiot going on a picnic by myself. You'll need to make yourself visible to everyone. Unless… you're not comfortable with that. We can do something different," he said hurriedly.

Bruce smiled a little. "No, it's okay. I can change." As he said that, his clothes changed into something a lot more comfortable looking. He wore dark jeans, not black, he had a medium blue button up, with the top button undone and his sleeves rolled up. "Is this better?"

Clark took a moment to appreciate how good he looked before he managed a choked, "Perfect."

Bruce smiled at him before tucking his gloved hands into his pockets. Then his smile flickered. "Are you sure? Maybe I should put on a jacket as well." A casual, dark blue blazer covered his shoulders and briefly bare, but very nice arms.

Clark could not help the small sigh of disappointment at the loss. "That's fine, Bruce. Come on."

As Clark walked out of the room, Bruce felt his heart sank a little. Clark had express disapproval on something. Maybe he was feeling impatience for Bruce. He shuffled after Clark, his mood dampened a little.

Clark found a picnic basket in the back of a cabinet, from a time when his Ma packed him several pies to bring back to Metropolis for his friends. He had given one to Lois, one to Perry, kept one for himself and shared the last one with the League.

Clark made sandwiches, using the now ripened tomatoes from his two thriving plants. A few chocolate chip cookies, a basket of fresh strawberries, some soda, quinoa salad, and a large slice of pecan pie Ma Kent had made a couple days ago.

Clark insisted they walk the mile from his apartment to the large park. He carried the basket like it weighed nothing, and Bruce walked through the city, not at all nervous like Clark half expected him to be.

He walked the streets like he did every other day.

They walked silently by each other, but the silence did not feel awkward at all.

Once, their arms brushed and Bruce tensed up for a moment, his head whipping around, eyes wide and he looked at Clark, who just blinked back and raised his eyebrows.

They walked slowly, not in a rush. It was nice. Clark silently prayed that he did not need to run off to save anybody because he really wanted to spend some time with Bruce. He wanted to break through whatever defense wall Bruce had set up.

Once they reached the park, it was nearly noon. Clark had not eaten breakfast, so he was actually pretty hungry, and Bruce, well, Bruce never ate anyways.

They spread a large blanket out under a tree, and Clark sat on one end of the blanket and gestured for Bruce to sit at the other.

Then, Clark pulled the basket towards him and started unpacking it. He had kept everything cool by lightly coating all the packaging and bowls with his cold breath. He split the foods as evenly as possible while Bruce watched silently.

Bruce's constant presence and watchfulness did not alarm Clark as much as it probably should, and Clark was kind of glad of that. It also made him feel less guilty when he watched Bruce as well.

They ate and chatted, and Clark made fun of Bruce when he tried new foods and decided whether or not he liked it.

Bruce apparently did not enjoy chocolate, nor did he like the texture of the cookie, which Clark thought was absurd. But he ended up eating three and a half cookies, so who was he to complain?

When they finished, Clark pushed the basket out of the way and lay down on the blanket. Bruce stared at him for a few moments before doing the same. They stared up at the tree, its leaves moving gently in the wind.

"This was nice," Clark commented. He felt a bit drowsy, and it was warm and comfortable where he was lying.

"Yes, I did enjoy this," Bruce said.

"Even though you don't like the food so much?" Clark asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, despite that. I enjoy your company."

Those words made Clark's heart skip a beat and he could not stop the smile that spread on his face. "Thanks, Bruce. I enjoy your company, too."

Clark's eyes were closed, so he did not see the corner of Bruce's lips lift up in a wry half-smile. Bruce turned his head away from Clark. He watched a few people bike by in the distance, a couple kids feeding ducks by the playground.

He decided that Earth was not as bad as he thought. Sure, the planet was young, and it was barely developed, which was why it was allowed to make mistakes. But in the midst of those mistakes, there were many great things.

Like Clark.

Clark was a gem in the world. How could Bruce take him away?

"Please, sister," Bruce begged. "Do not let this go on any further."

Love laughed. She was in her human form, a form Bruce had never actually seen her in, but according to his siblings, she often wore it.

She was slim and had many curves. Her feet were bare and dainty, and her black hair cropped short to her chin. Her face was not marred with imperfections, and her eyes not the endless black they usually were. Even so, Love was blind, and relied on her other keen senses to "see".

"I do not think you learned your lesson yet, brother," Love said. "I let you go, and you will continue coming between my lovers. That is, if I could let you go."

"Sister…"

"You can grovel all you want, Brucie – is that not what you go by now? – but I cannot do anything. You must learn to deal with the pain and heartbreak that comes with love, like all my other broken lovers."

"They all die in the end," Bruce argued. "They all have an end to their sorrows! What will I have? When will my punishment end?"

Love pretended to think about it. "Ah, that is right, never."

Bruce knew how stubborn his older sister could be. He took a deep breath, steadying his warring emotions for a moment. He had one last thing to say, in hopes that Love would agree, before he resorted to dropping on his knees and begging.

"At least grant him a happy ending," Bruce said. He did not look at Love, his head turned down instead. His voice cracked at the end. "Make Clark happy in his last days. There is this woman he works with… a Lois Lane."

Love's crow of laughter made Bruce squeeze his hands into fists.

"Oh, brother!" Love cried. "You're more of a glutton for punishment than I thought you were! Oh, you would have made the perfect sad romance. Had I not been blind myself, this would make me believe that love is blind, in one sense at least."

Bruce looked up confused. Love walked over to him. She grabbed his chin and tilted his face up. Bruce frowned down at her as best as he could.

"Oh, poor baby brother," she cooed. "You did not see? Clark is already in love. So desperately, with a man who won't tell him anything, who won't take any interest in him, who won't even touch him!"

Bruce's eyes widened. "You're lying," he whispered.

Love sneered. "Am I? Does love lie? I may be deceiving, but I do not lie, sweetheart. Oh, no, you did not see did you? No, you love separating lovers, so how about this pair? Tear apart my newest lovebirds, steal away their gift of life, and tear away the other's will to live at that." She ended with a hiss before pushing Bruce backwards.

"No…"

"Surprised, brother?" She laughed in his face, and her laughter echoed throughout the Gardens as Bruce ran out and teleported back to Earth.

The minute he lands on the planet, Bruce knew the time and date. It was nearly midnight, and there was about five weeks left. Bruce stumbled forward, clutching the edge of the roof as he caught his breath. Had that much time passed already? He knew that he had spent three weeks on Earth with Clark, but had his trip to the Gardens, which, given, was farther away than the Palace and the Courtyard, really taken nearly two weeks?

Bruce found Clark in his living room, finishing up his article.

Clark looked up, and he smiled when Bruce appeared.

"Hey, B," he said cheerfully. "Haven't seen you in a while. Did you take a trip off planet again?"

Bruce did not answer him. Instead, he stared at Clark for a long time. The lighting in the room was not great, but still, Clark looked so good.

His hair was a bit of a mess, damp and rather tousled. He wore sweatpants, but no shirt, and Bruce could see the muscles flexing and moving under the tanned skin as he stretched.

"Bruce? You okay there?" Clark asked, his expression immediately shifting to worried.

Bruce swallowed hard as he looked at Clark's face. Clark's eyes were wide, but bright behind his thick glasses. His eyebrows drew in slightly and his lips turned down in a small frown. Even so, he looked gorgeous.

"Bruce? Hey, answer me!" Clark said. He started to stand.

Bruce wet his lips before speaking. "Clark… tell me the truth," he said slowly, his voice shaking. "Please don't lie to me."

Clark's frown deepened. "Of course. What is it?"

"Do you- Do you love me?"


	7. Coming Clean

Clark was silent for a while. Then, he stood and walked towards Bruce. He stopped right in front of the other man, who was trying his best to keep breathing and not break down right then and there.

"I believe I do, yes," Clark finally answered. He gently took Bruce's gloved hands in his. "What of it?"

Bruce felt tears well up in his eyes. Never in his entire existence has he cried before. The fact that he was incapable of crying before is not relevant. He hated the feeling though. The horrible, stuffy feeling of his chest, as it rose up his throat, and a sob escaped his mouth, and tears were forced from his eyes.

Clark immediately squeezes his hands. "Hey, hey, don't cry. Why are you crying? Is that such a bad thing? I won't mention it again, if it is. I'm sorry, Bruce, I can't help it. I just-"

Bruce wanted to cry into Clark's shoulder, for Clark to hold him while he sobs quietly at the unfairness of life, and the irony of his situation.

"Bruce, let's go sit down and talk about this, okay?" Clark gently led Bruce to the couch and helped him down. He then grabbed a sweatshirt off of the other chair and pulled it on before giving Bruce a hug.

He held him until Bruce stopped crying.

"So," Clark said when Bruce finally pulled back. "What was that about?"

Bruce took a shaky breath before speaking. "I'm sorry, Clark," he said. "There's so many things I have not told you about myself. And you deserve the truth. But before I tell you, before you judge me for who I am, I need to tell you that I love you. So much, and I- I wish I did not, but I do, and I cannot do anything to change it."

Clark's face grew more and more confused. He opened his mouth, but he did know which part to respond to. "I'm listening," he finally went with.

Bruce closed his eyes. His breathing steadied drastically. Then he started talking. "I am not from Earth. I am not from any planet in fact. You may not believe me, but I am Death." Bruce paused, waiting for Clark's reaction.

Clark looked at him blankly. "You… what?"

"I am Death. I am a primordial being that is hundreds of billions of years old. And I will continue to exist long after this planet dies. I have a twin brother, Life, and an older sister Love, and a younger sister Fate. There are a few others, but they are not my immediate family."

"You're… Death. Like a grim reaper?" Bruce did not expect Clark to grasp the concept.

"No, not quite. I don't usually do the reaping of souls, and I have reapers to do that for me." Bruce took a deep breath. Clark seemed to be taking it quite well. "But even so, when I touch anything, I will take its life. Like- Like the rabbits."

"And you don't want to touch me for that reason as well?" Clark asked. "Wait, then why did you come to Earth? You said you had business here."

Bruce sighed heavily. "I do have business here. See, I have this list. It's a list of those who need to die."

"So everyone dies for a reason?"

"Yes, one way or another. Everything needs to be balanced out like that."

"And all those people I could not save in the past?" Clark asked.

"You were not meant to save them. It was their time to die." Bruce said. He noticed Clark's fist clenching. "But you have saved people in the past that were supposed to die."

"And what happened to them later?" Clark asked, his voice angry.

"They lived until it was their time again," Bruce said. "I do not choose who dies, Clark. My sister does that. I just collect the souls."

Clark was silent for a long time. Then, he asked, "You said you usually don't come to Earth. So what's the special occasion?"

Bruce's throat felt tight. How could he tell Clark this? He felt like a traitor just thinking about it. "You."

"You came for me? Am I supposed to die?" Clark asked. He sounded vaguely surprised.

"Yes."

"When?"

"I can't- I can't tell you. It's against my rules. But it is soon, Clark. Too soon in my opinion. I'm sorry." Bruce turned away. He could not face Clark right now.

"It's okay," Clark said. "I don't blame you. I just did not think it would be so soon."

"You were actually supposed to die twice before. But you didn't. So I came to oversee it that you did not thwart me a third time, but I wish… I wish I had not done so," Bruce said. "I should not have meddled. You might have gotten away and lived a long life with someone special until you are old and cranky."

Clark laughed. "I think I did have that one dream, once upon a time. But not anymore. And no, it's not because I know I'm going to die. In fact, it kind of puts my life into perspective."

"But Clark…"

"No, I really am not afraid of death, Bruce," Clark assured. "I knew it would come at some point. With what I do, it would have come sooner than later."

"Don't say that. You don't deserve this."

Clark raised his hand to stroke Bruce's tear-streaked face, but he stopped himself and put his hand down. "I wish I could touch you," he whispered wistfully.

Bruce looked away. "I wish I could touch you, too," he said. "But if I do, you die. And I am not about to make that sacrifice." He looked up and met Clark's blue eyes. "I would give anything to let you live, Clark."

"Don't," Clark said. He smiled gently. "You'll be tempting and playing dirty with your younger sister. I think Fate is the last thing you want on your bad side."

Bruce could not help but laugh a little. "No, my older sister is way worse." He immediately sobered up. "In fact, she was the reason for all this," he said with a broken voice again. "She made you fall in love with me. You were not supposed to. You were supposed to be in love with… with anybody!"

"You're saying your sister made me love you?"

Bruce nodded. "And she made me love you in return. So that when it came for your time to die, I would have to live with the inevitable heartbreak for, well, ever."

Clark frowned. "But it feel so real," he said.

Bruce let out another small, dry sob. "That's the thing," he said. "It is real. Which is why it will be all the harder to live with."

"Oh… I'm so sorry, Bruce," Clark said. "You don't deserve to be in pain forever. Can't you ask her to, I don't know, reverse it?"

Bruce squeezed Clark's hands. "I did," he said. "Twice now. She refuses to. Said she can't. And so I'm doomed to know you loved me for five weeks, only to take your life and live with the pain."

"Hey, everything will be okay. You'll see," Clark promised.

Bruce did not agree. He did not believe in other possibilities. Because in the end, Fate would fix everything, one way or another. But he nods. He gives Clark the lie. But even so, a couple tears escape.


	8. The End of A Long Road

Bruce tried to be normal around Clark. And Clark was trying to be normal around him, but there was an obvious tension that had come between them. They were careful around each other, like they were standing on some delicate grounds neither of them dared to approach.

Bruce also noticed that Clark was a bit more reckless.

For instance, the next day, after coming clean, Clark had gone to work as usual, but during his lunch break, he caught wind of something happening in Gotham Bay.

Apparently, there was a tiny little squid from the zoo that had also been ejected with the mutant serum. So there was a giant squid thing biding its time down at the bottom of the bay. It had already caused severe damage to the bridge, and a couple cars were going to fall in.

Superman swooped in, determined to save each and every person. He dragged car after all to safety. Then, the giant squid grabbed him and slammed him into the bridge, grabbing more cars and crushing them in its giant tentacles.

People fell into the bay, and Clark struggled against the giant animal.

The tentacles squeezed his tightly, cutting off his breath. Clark could hold his breath for a long time, but that was when he was not trying to use his strength.

But he finally managed to push the tentacles far apart enough for him to fly out. Then, he shot his heat vision at the giant beast, cutting one of its tentacles clean off.

The creature screeched and fell back into the bay. Clark then swooped in and grabbed the people who had fallen into the water.

Then, as he reached for the last person, a young boy, a tentacle wrapped around the boy's waist and pulled against him. The boy screamed as water filled his mouth. And Clark had to let go so the boy would not rip in half. The boy disappeared quickly into the depths. Clark dove into the dark waters, swimming quickly to follow the boy's bright red sweatshirt.

Clark noticed that the mutant squid had grown its tentacles back, very quickly at that.

He cut through the one holding the boy, who was starting to cease his struggles. Clark had to hurry.

He grabbed the boy and zoomed back up to the bridge. He lay the boy down, and he immediately started choking, coughing but alive.

Clark smiled and an instant later, he was pulled back under the water by the now furious squid monster.

The waters were dark and murky. Clark could not see very well, and there were multiple tentacles squeezing him all at the same time.

Its razor sharp suckers dug into his skin hard, not breaking the skin, but creating bruises nonetheless. Soon, he was completely encased in tentacles, and Clark's arms were pinned to his body. He could not break through his tentacle cage. He tried to cut through the thick arms with his heat vision, but he was so deep in the creature's embrace that it was futile.

Then, one moment, Clark was starting to panic a little, then, the tentacles fell away, and he was released. He immediately swam up to the surface. He broke through the waters, and those on the bridge started cheering. Clark flew off, landing, soaking wet, on his apartment building.

Bruce stood in the shade, arms crossed and frowning at him.

"What the hell were you thinking? You didn't have a plan, you didn't think about anything!" He said angrily. "Had I not done anything, who knows what would have happened down there! For all I would have known, you may die."

Clark gave him an irritated look. "I thought you'd known which day I would die."

Bruce glared at him harder. Clark started heading into his apartment, and Bruce followed.

"Just because I know, it does not mean Fate may not decide your time could come faster!" Bruce argued.

"Well, then, for all you know, my time just got extended," Clark said calmly. He stripped off his uniform, and grabbed a towel before going into his bathroom. "And don't you have anything else to do? Being Death and all? A day job, maybe? Besides stalking me around all day, that is." He had to admit, he sounded a bit aggravated.

There was no answer. And when came out of the shower ten minutes later, his room was empty, and Bruce's presence was gone.

A pang of loss pierced his heart, and Clark slowly got dressed and debated whether or not he should go back to work. He honestly did not feel up to the busy office anymore, so he called Perry and told him he was taking the rest of the day off, and that he would finish the article at home.

Clark moved around his apartment restlessly. It felt odd not feeling Bruce's presence there. Yes, Bruce sometimes would go off and do whatever, but Clark would still feel him nearby, as if always keeping an eye on him from afar. But this time, Clark felt like Bruce really had left.

After hours of pacing and doing useless miscellaneous tasks, Clark decided to go visit his parents.

He quickly washed and dried his suit before pulling it on. The fabric smelled of Gotham's pollution, and it clung to his skin in a way that made Clark slightly uncomfortable.

Clark touched down in front of the farm a while later, smelling dinner cooking inside. His stomach rumbled a little. Clark knocked on the door before pulling it open.

"Ma? Pa?" He called. Loud barking and nails clicking on floorboards made Clark smile.

A moment later, he was tackled by Rusty, the rather old golden retriever. Rusty was blind in one eye, but his enthusiasm was not diminished with age.

"Hey, boy!" Clark said, immediately feeling better than he had all day. "How've you been? Good? Yeah?" He rubbed Rusty's head and coddled the old dog. Rusty licked his face several times, and Clark suffered through the dog's eager gestures.

"Clark? Baby, is that you?" Martha Kent called from the kitchen.

Clark let the door close behind him, and he walked towards the kitchen, Rusty following along behind him, teeth clamped down on his red cape.

Martha's head popped out around the door. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. "Oh, Clark! What a wonderful surprise! Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you wash up, get changed and call your pa from the barn."

Clark kissed his mother on the cheek. "Just thought I'd pop in," he said. "Smells great, by the way," he said as he headed up the stairs.

He changed into a flannel shirt and jeans and washed drying dog slobber off his face. Then, he headed out the back door towards the barn. The door was slightly open, and his father was on his back, under the ancient tractor.

"Hey, Pa," Clark said, leaning against the door. "Ma said dinner's ready."

Jonathan Kent pushed himself out from under the tractor. "Clark!" He sat up, squinting against the setting sun. "Didn't expect you to show up!" He quickly got up, giving his son a hug. Clark ignored the grease on his father's shirt and just clutched him tightly. He tried to ignore the fact it could be the last time he saw his parents, and the last time his parents saw him. Jonathan pulled away and held Clark at arms' length. "Looking good, my boy. The city treating you well?"

Clark smiled. "Yeah. Everything's been great."

They start walking back to the house. Jonathan locked the door behind him. They went into the house, and after Jonathan got cleaned up, they sat down for dinner. Martha insisted on serving Clark way too much food, as she always did, even when he was growing up. Jonathan asked about his work, Metropolis, his relationships.

And at the end of the night, Martha packed a key lime pie for Clark to take back to Metropolis.

As Clark got ready to fly off again, he gave his parents hugs, holding on a little longer than usual.

He held back tears as he pulled away.

"Love you, Ma, Pa," he said.

"Love you too, Clark," Martha said.

Jonathan nodded and patted Clark's shoulder firmly. "You're a good man, Clark," he said. "We're both so proud of you."

Clark could only nod in response, his words getting choked up in his throat. He grips the pie tin a bit harder in his hands. He gave them each one more long look. Then he choked out a short "bye" before shooting off into the night sky.

* * *

Bruce was back when Clark returned. He looked a lot less angry than before, thankfully. He sat on the couch, tugging at his sleeves. He was now wearing a long, dark blue trench coat, but it still looked pretty black in the dim light.

"Sorry for getting angry and storming off earlier," he said quietly when Clark walked into the living room.

Clark ignored him, taking his time and setting the pie in the fridge, washing his hands and shedding the suit. He pulled on an old t-shirt and sweatpants before he came back into the living room and sat down next to Bruce.

"It's okay," Clark finally said. "I'm sorry for being so snappy."

"So where'd you go?"

"Couldn't you tell?" Clark asked.

Bruce shrugged. "Yeah, but I decided not to invade your privacy. You, um, you deserve to have some privacy." He took a deep breath. It sounded a bit shaky. "You can tell me to leave if you're not comfortable with… with me. And if you'd prefer, I'll even send another reaper for you." Bruce was struggling to speak in an even, more or less emotionless tone, but he was not succeeding.

"No!" Clark said loudly. "No, don't… don't go. I don't want you to go."

Bruce looked at him for a long time. Clark's eyes were wide, and he itched to grab Bruce's hands and hold him here, but Bruce was not wearing his gloves at the moment, and he looked like he was ready to flee at Clark's any movement.

"Please don't go," Clark whispered. His heart was pounding loudly, and he could hear that Bruce's was racing as well. "Don't make this any harder than it already is. For both of us."

Bruce swallowed hard. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. Clark wanted to wipe them away and hug Bruce tightly.

"Okay," Bruce croaked. "I won't go."

Clark nearly collapsed with relief. He did not realize how tense he was. "Gloves," he said.

"Hm?"

"Gloves." Clark nodded at Bruce's hands.

Thin, silk gloves appeared over Bruce's paler hands, and as soon as the cloth solidified, Clark grabbed Bruce's hands, pressing his knuckles to his own lips. He closed his eyes and just held his hand there for a long time.

"I was at my parents' house, in Smallville," Clark whispered against Bruce's knuckles. "Wanted to say good-bye. I, uh, I needed something to distract me."

"From what?"

"You left," Clark said. "I felt restless, and I missed you. I think I knew you'd probably come back at some point, but the idea that you may have left for good made me feel sick." He opened his eyes and brought Bruce's hand to his cheek, placing his own hand on top. He chuckled quietly. "Your sister's pretty powerful."

Bruce gently ran his thumb over Clark's cheekbone. "Yeah. She is." He opened his mouth to say something else, but Clark had an idea what was coming.

"If you apologize," Clark started, stopping Bruce with a dark look. "I will smack you, on the face, with my bare hand." Bruce's eyes widened and he tensed. His mouth quickly shut. "Why are you sorry, Bruce? It's not your fault. And I don't care if your sister did this, or if it actually is your fault. I love you so much, and I don't know how much more time I actually have with you, so please… don't."

"Okay," Bruce said. He slowly brought his other hand up to Clark's cheek, drying the two tears that had escape from his eyes. Clark met his eyes. His eyes then fell to Bruce's pale lips. He wanted to kiss him so badly. But he could not, so he closed his eyes instead.

"Bruce," Clark whispered. "Tell me, what happens after death?"

"Wh-What? Why would you want to know that?" Bruce asked, sounding panicked.

"Just tell me," Clark said. "I just want to know what's going to happen to me after I die."

Bruce swallowed. He caressed Clark's cheek again. "Reapers… Reapers extract the soul from the body, and they take the soul to the Palace of Death. There, the soul is cleansed through an easy process. It's… It's kind of like wiping the memories of the soul, but not really. There are actually two kinds of souls that are extracted. It's hard to explain, but it's like a 'physical' soul, this bright, white, glowing thing that is pure and brilliant. And then there's the 'personal' soul. A personal soul is special for every single being.

"And this personal soul is taken from the physical soul. The physical soul, now cleansed, is ready to be used again. It will be taken to the Courtyard of Life, where my brother will assign it to another being." Bruce took a shaky breath. "Then, the personal soul, full of memories from the being's life, will be sent to whatever afterlife they deserve."

Clark hummed. He drew patterns into Bruce's thigh with a finger. "And that will happen to me?"

"Yes."

"Sounds interesting. I wish I could see these things," Clark said. He shifted and turned around. He carefully leaned backwards, until he was lying against Bruce's chest, making sure not to touch his neck or face. Then, he put Bruce's arms around him. He tried not to think about the fact that this may be the most intimate thing he could ever do with Bruce.

"I wish you could stay with me," Bruce said quietly. He materialized a small handkerchief and placed it on top of Clark's head. Then, he rested his chin on it with a sigh.

Clark closed his eyes, silently agreeing with Bruce. He clutched Bruce's arms around him a little tighter and drifted off to sleep.


	9. Death's Kiss

The time ticked down until the dreaded day came.

Bruce felt like throwing up. He was nauseous, and he could not look at Clark.

It was in the early hours of the morning, on the day he did not want to see. Clark was sleeping in bed, having no idea that in an hour or ten hours, he would no longer be breathing, and Bruce could already feel his heart breaking.

He knew it was not something he could control, but there were a couple things he could do. He could try to turn a blind eye and hope that Clark cheats death again. But he would need to stay away from Clark all day. He could not bear that. But if he stayed with Clark, the inevitable will come.

So as Bruce sat on the corner of Clark's bed, as he slept, silent tears ran down his face. Bruce hoped his death would be painless, for Clark at least. Bruce knew that it would not be painless for him, especially the aftermath.

The sun was streaming through the windows, and it was getting to the time Clark needed to go to work. Bruce did not want him to go to work today. He wanted to be with Clark all day.

Bruce was so lost in thought, he did not notice Clark rousing.

"'Mornin', Bruce," he murmured. He smiled lazily, but then, he stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly awake.

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing, I was just… thinking," he said, attempting a smile.

Clark did not return his smile. "It's today, isn't it?"

Bruce looked away, all pretense dropping. His shoulders dropped and new tears sprung up again.

Bruce was surprised when Clark rushed forward and hugged him around the waist. He tensed suddenly, and then relaxed a little. Clark pressed a kiss to Bruce's shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll take the day off from work. It's not like Perry can yell at me after I'm dead, right? We'll go down to that coffee shop you liked last time, get breakfast and walk around the city or something. I kind of want to really see Metropolis again. From the ground, though. I've never really appreciated it all. Then, maybe if I make it until then, we'll watch the sunset and the city lights come on." He had a content little smile on his face.

"How are you so happy?" Bruce asked. "You're being so stupidly cheerful like I'm not going to kill you before the end of this day."

"You're not going to kill me," Clark said, his voice sharp. "We've gone over this, ad nauseum, Bruce."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Bruce said, quickly drying his tears. "Yeah, that sounds good. Let's go that."

But Bruce actually wanted nothing more than to shut Clark in his room, maybe chain him to his bed, so he could not leave and force him to make it through the day.

Clark quickly jumped in the shower, and gets dressed. He makes Bruce wear something more casual again, and like that, they headed out. Bruce held Clark's hand the entire time, clutching it tightly, even as they were walking down the stairs.

"Stop being so nervous," Clark said with a laugh. "You're acting like I could die falling down the stairs."

Bruce gritted his teeth and loosened his hand a little. Clark pretended to trip, and Bruce gasped loudly, immediately tightening his grip. Clark was laughing, but Bruce was not.

"Don't do that," he said.

"I'm not human, Bruce," Clark said with a grin. "I can't die if I fall down the stairs. I can't die if a building fell on me. I can't die if someone shot me. It's pretty hard for me to die, y'know."

"I know," Bruce said. He was being a little irrational. But he could not help but worry.

They went to go get breakfast like Clark said, but Bruce ate very little. He just sipped the tea little by little until it got cold. Clark did not comment on it.

Then, they took a walk.

The city was bustling and busy. The skies were blue, and the sun shining bright. It seemed like a day where nothing could go wrong.

Women pushing children in strollers, distressed men in uniforms talking on the phone, trying to get all their coworkers' coffee orders correct.

Clark pointed out every little thing.

"Look, Bruce! The bird in its nest, aw. Isn't it cute?"

"Your dog is so adorable! What breed is it?"

"Hey, Bruce, a new frozen yogurt place just opened! Let's go get some! They have free samples too!"

Bruce got a tiny bit of strawberry frozen yogurt, after Clark insisted he try some. Clark piled his bowl high, with both yogurt and toppings. Bruce's stomach rolled as he took tiny bites.

Bruce looked outside the window as Clark chattered. He looked up and down the street, wondering if anything could come up at that moment. Nearly half the day had passed, and it was nearly high noon.

"Hey," Clark said. He put his hand on top of Bruce's gloved one. Bruce twitched slightly. "Bruce."

"Hm?" Bruce reluctantly tore his eyes away from the window and looked at Clark.

Clark sighed heavily. He used both of his hands and took Bruce's. "You're worried," he said quietly. "And you're scared."

"I am," Bruce admitted. "You're not?"

Clark smiled and shook his head. "Not really. A bit nervous, but not scared. The idea of death has put my life into perspective."

"Idea?" Bruce asked with a slight scoff. "I am Death."

Clark smiled softly. He kissed Bruce's knuckles gently. "I know that. I just meant… actually, I don't know what I meant." He laughed. Bruce started smiling as well when he saw Clark's eyes turn into little crescents when he laughed. "By the way, I meant to ask, but do your reapers actually call you Death? And everyone else? Didn't you mention you had like a human son?"

"Not a son, really. He just stays with me. And yeah, everyone just calls me Death. Again, I don't get around much. I did not have a name. Until you," Bruce said. "Hey, Clark, I love you, you know that?" Bruce said. "I mean, I know you know, but I just really want you to hear it again because I don't know if my last chance to say it to you-"

Clark stood up suddenly, looking out the window. His eyes narrowed. Bruce stood up as well, peering outside, but he saw nothing.

"What? What is it?" Bruce asked, still clutching onto Clark's hand.

"Something's happening out there," Clark murmured. "It's on the other side of the city, but… I have to go, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes widened. "No," he said. "Please, don't go, please. You'll die, Clark, I just know it, don't-"

Clark tore his hand away shaking his head sadly. "I can't stay, Bruce. If I'm not supposed to stay, I'm not going to try and purposely avoid it. People are going to die because of me if I listen to you."

Bruce shook his head, tears welling up without his permission. "Clark, no-"

"There are people out there who aren't supposed to die today," Clark said fiercely. "Do you really think I'll be selfish enough to stay here while they lose their lives? I'm sorry, Bruce. I've done enough to alter the ways of this world. I'm not about to make it worse." He strode outside quickly, ducking into a nearby alleyway. Bruce stared, wide-eyed at the place Clark stood.

Then, he snapped out of it. He was not going to leave Clark alone in his last moments. If something like another giant animal was tormenting the city again, Bruce did not care if it was immoral to abuse his powers. Clark came first.

But when Bruce caught up with Clark, or Superman now, he nearly screamed.

It was a giant automaton. The giant robot had on a hideous mechanical grin that shot fire, burning buildings and trees. Its eyes were also red, like Clark's when he used his heat vision.

The robot also had crushing strength, stomping cars and storefronts like bugs. And Clark was the size of its thumb. But even so, he was flying around at super speeds, trying to find a weakness to the robot.

Bruce watched as Clark flew at the robot's chest while it shot flames after him. He punched the robot's chest, and the metal crunched. Clark punched it again, ripping the metal right out.

Then, Clark dropped to the ground like a fly swatted right out of the air. Bruce was by his side in an instant.

"Clark? Clark! Answer me," he said quickly, carefully rolling Clark onto his back. He hurt and weakened, but not dying.

He groaned loudly, taking heaving breaths. "It's- It's powered by kryp- kryptonite." He grunted and pushed himself up to his feet.

"No, stop," Bruce begged. "It's killing you, Clark!"

"I know," Clark said, glaring up at the robot as it raised its foot to stomp Clark. "But I have to."

"Cl-"

Clark shot off before Bruce could finish calling his name. He grabbed one of the robot's giant fingers with both hands and pulled. The finger and the back of the hand came off, but the hand mostly stayed intact. Clark tossed the metal away and the giant robot closed its hand around Clark.

His arms were trapped at his sides, and he struggled to push the fingers apart. The robot started lifting Clark up into the air. It opened its mouth wide, gears clicking and moving to unhinge its metal jaw. Then, it stuffed Clark its metal throat and closed it. Bruce watched with horror as everything went silent. Then, the robot gave a short burp of fire.

Then, it continued terrorizing the city.

"NO!" Bruce screamed. Bruce did not touch Clark, could he still be dead? Did Dick make a mistake and assigned someone else to him? His mind ran through the worst possibilities as the robot started shooting flames up and down the street again.

Then, it stopped.

Bruce's teary eyes went wide. The flames just seemed to be stuck in the robot's throat. Bruce could see the occasional flames slip out, and the robot made odd, metal grating gargling noises.

Then, the robot exploded. It's head went flying one way, flying through a burning building, and pieces of its chest crashed all onto the street. The arms fell off one by one, twitching and sparking. The legs fell backwards into the street with a loud thump. Glowing green flakes floated down from the sky like snow.

But a larger piece of green, followed by red and blue, than been thrown farther than the other debris. Bruce immediately teleported after it.

Clark had landed in a park, in the flowerbeds. He fit right in with the bright yellows, pinks, reds, and purples. But Clark was not moving. Lying beside him, still clutching in his fingers was a smoking motor, with wires and tubes all connected to a small green stone.

Bruce grabbed it and immediately vaporized it. Even so, Clark did not move. His hair was smoking and singed, as was his uniform. Half of his cape had been seared off, and so were parts of his suit. Black and bubbling skin showed underneath.

Bruce knelt beside Clark, taking one of his bleeding hands. He peered at the damage of the delicate palm. Rivulets of red ran down his impenetrable skin, over burns and cuts. Mixed in with the red were flecks of green.

"No," Bruce croaked, dropping Clark's hand in favor of cupping his sooty face.

Clark's eyelids fluttered weakly, and he cracked his eyes open. He saw Bruce, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"K-Kiss me," he barely whispered. "Pl-Please."

Bruce shook his head, gently caressing Clark's face. "I don't want you to leave. Clark, you can't leave yet."

Clark took a shaky breath. It was obvious he was in great pain. "Pl-Ple…ase, B- B…"

His eyes closed.

"No, Clark," Bruce said quickly, gently tapping Clark's cheek. "Open your eyes, please, Clark. I'll kiss you. I'll kiss you… just open your eyes."

Clark was unresponsive at first, but his eyelids slid back slowly again. He looked up at Bruce, at the trees, mostly burning, but still green, and the blue, blue sky.

Bruce leaned in, blocking his view of the sky, of the trees, until all he saw was Bruce.

Their lips were almost touching. Tears from Bruce's eyes fell onto Clark's cheek. "I love you," Bruce whispered, and Clark could feel the ghost of his breath. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Everything hurt so much, but Bruce was going to kiss him and it was all going to be okay.

He tried his hardest to say the words back, but he could not.

Then, Bruce kissed him, gently, slowly, carefully. Bruce watched with blurred eyesight as Clark's eyes drained of life. Then, Bruce collapsed on Clark, his face pressed against Clark's burying himself into Clark's still smoking shoulder. He cried, his body shaking with sobs and tears.

The city was as alive as ever, but their hero was dead.

And no one but Death himself was there to witness it.


	10. Of Life and Death

"Bruce, c'mon, you can't stay in here forever," Dick said from the doorway of Death's "bedroom". It was an exact replica of Clark's apartment bedroom in Metropolis, on Earth.

"Don't call me that," Death snapped, not looking away the picture of Clark and his parents. The one picture Clark kept in his apartment.

Dick sighed heavily. "You've been in here for the past week. That's… three and a half Earth months, Bruce."

"I'm grieving, leave me alone," Death said. The sad tone that followed him around all the time still lingered in his tone.

"D," Dick said sympathetically. "I'm sorry, but-"

"Don't pity me, Dick."

Dick sighed and paused. "Your brother is here to see you."

"I do not wish to see him."

"He insists."

"I do not care."

Dick scoffed. "Okay, now you're just acting like a petulant child. Clark died, boo-hoo. So what? You deal with deaths of millions each day. You are Death. It's not something to be stopped. It just happens. You told me that. I can't believe I'm telling this right back to you. I'm sending your brother in." He spun and walked away, not waiting for Death's answer.

Death did not answer either. He stared at the worn, grainy, yellowing picture of a younger Clark and his parents. A golden retriever sat at his feet.

Death traced his finger down the frame of the replica photo. He did not have physical eyes in this form, but Death still felt the burst of sadness that just built and built and needed to pop. It still hurt when he thought about Clark, but he could not stop. He missed him so much. He was ignoring his duties, and he was worrying Dick, as well as the rest of his family. Aside from Love, of course.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

"Brother," came Life's voice. "May I come in?"

Death did not answer.

Life strode inside anyway, perching gently at the edge of the replica bed. "You are still mourning," he observed. "Why?"

Death did not look away from the picture. "I do not know," he said truthfully. "It still hurts. But I do not know how to heal it."

Life made a thoughtful noise. "Brother," Life said. "Look at me. Please."

Death slowly turned towards his brother. His brother wore his human form, as always, unlike Death at the moment. Death could not bear his human form anymore. Life had a white robe on, and everything was pale, much like the robe, except for his shocking green eyes.

"I recently took a visit to Earth," Life said, looking straight at Death, hoping for a reaction. "I tried going to the city you spoke of, but I did not remember where it was. So I went to the last city I visited while I was on Earth. That one place, where you found Richard. I, ah, made the mistake of not staying invisible, not knowing that the Earthians, sorry, humans were not used to seeing beings pop out of nowhere." Life made a weird face. "One of them screamed and ran away yelling 'Joker', which I did not understand why. Is a joker not supposed to be funny? So why the human run away?"

"Get to your point, brother," Death said dryly.

"I'm getting there," Life said. Death had forgotten how talkative his brother could be. "Anyway, luckily, the city was close to the other one, so I went over there easily. Found out some information on that man of yours. He had this huge public funeral, broadcasted all over the world, and a statue was erected in his honor. His, ah, other identity, Clark Kent, they did not find a body for him, so they assumed he was incinerated by the fires. Don't know much else."

Death did not give any reaction to all of what Life told him.

Life sighed. It was very exaggerated. He was hiding something now, Death knew it.

"What are you not telling me?" Death asked.

Life finally smiled. "You want to know?"

"Not particularly, but you want to tell me," Death said sardonically. "But if it gets you to leave me alone quicker, I will ask."

Life frowned briefly before smiling happily. "I found a solution to your problem, brother."

"I do not have a problem. My problem already had its solution. I'm just dealing with the consequences."

"Well, I have a coping mechanism for you," Life said. "You see, Dickie came up to me, practically begging for me to fix you somehow. And honestly, your moping and grieving has gotten a little out of hand. You're supposed to be Death. Emotionless and cold. We cannot have you crying over some mortal."

Death wanted to kick his brother out.

Life kept talking. "So, I have been all over, looking for a cure to a broken heart. Even talked to our sister. Selina was not much help. She just laughed in my face a few times, saying I was next or something. Not that I care very much. Harls was not helpful either. Kept telling me to leave you alone. You know, I think she is scared of you. You have been acting like you blame her for Kal-El's death. You need to be nicer to her."

Finally, Death snapped. "If you came here to criticize me, I do not need to hear it. Get out, brother. Come back some other day."

Life's smile disappeared. His green eyes went cold. This was a side that anyone rarely saw. But it was who Life truly was, down to his very core. "Alright, I'll be straight with you," he said. "I brought your darling Kal-El back, okay? He's alive, and he's waiting right outside. I was not lying when I said everyone is sick and tired of your 'woe is me' grieving stage. So get your ass out of this stupid room and do something productive."

"Bullshit."

"You do not believe me? Fine," Life snapped. He stood up. "You are not the only one who can take away life, you know. I can very well take it away again, and I sure as hell will not make it as painless as you do," he growled.

Death stood up as well. He was across the room in two strides, pushing his brother hard. Life crashed into the wall, and the illusion of the room flickered for a moment. But in that moment, Death caught sight of the real room of the Palace. Standing in the hallway, looking around at the intricate designs, was Clark.

Death stumbled and barely caught himself when Life pushed him off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Life spat. "You need to fucking get it together."

"You… You were not lying," Death marveled in a whisper.

"Of course I was not fucking lying!" Life yelled. "When have I ever lied to you? Some fucking brother you are."

Death wanted to bolt to the door. But he turned to Life. "I'm sorry, brother. You were right. The grief made me think and act irrationally. I deeply apologize for that. And you… you brought him back?" Death looked at the door again. "How?"

Life shrugged. "I took the soul and his memories and reattached them, then I put them into a new body. A full grown body that looked exactly like his old one. Never tried it before, but it worked. Loopholes, huh. But I won't do that with everyone," Life warned. "I feel bad enough about this one."

"Thank you," Death said. "Really. I- I do not know how to thank you."

Life quirked a small smile. "Come by and visit once in a while. Courtyard gets lonely by myself. You have reapers and Dick, and now Kal-El, but it's just me in my Courtyard. I have a lot of stories to tell as well, if you have the time to listen." Life's smile turned wistful. "I never saw much of you, brother. And when I started seeing you even less, I was… I was afraid I was losing you. I could not bear to lose you."

Death placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I will," he said softly. "At least once every few days. I really cannot thank you enough, brother."

"I just want you happy," Life said softly.

"Thank you," Death whispered. He looked at the door again.

"Go," Life said with a small laugh. "He's been asking after you."

Death gave Life one last smile and a small squeeze on the shoulder before he literally flew out of the door. He appeared in the hallway and stopped.

It took a moment for Clark to see him. When his eyes did land on him, a flash of surprise passed through his eyes. Then, he smiled. "Hey," he said. "Um, do you go by Death in this form?" He gave an awkward little chuckle, and Death's heart (if he had one in this form) burst with longing, sadness, and immense joy. It was very confusing.

Death let his true form melt away in favor of his human form, which was unfortunately already crying with red rimmed eyes. He probably looked like a mess. "I would prefer if you didn't," he admitted.

Clark grinned. "I can… I can touch you here, right?"

Death, Bruce, nodded, wiping at his eyes with a stupid smile on his face. "Yeah, yes, you can."

And Clark ran forward, scooping his dark angel up in his arms, twirling them in one full circle before pausing and kissing him full on the lips.

"I missed you," Bruce whispered against Clark's lips, glad that it was warm and full of life this time.

"Yeah," Clark said with a huff of a laugh. "Your brother and Dick told me. Charming, they are."

Bruce brushed Clark's hair out of his face, glad he could touch his skin without his powers kicking in. It was the magic of the Palace, after all. He kissed Clark again, for a long time, just reveling in the act that made his heart swell and sing.

Then, Clark pulled away. "I didn't get a chance to tell you," he said, a bit breathless. "Before, but, I love you. Bruce, Death, whatever you want to be called. You're mine. A dark, foreboding present, all wrapped up with a lovely black bow."

Bruce pressed his forehead against Clark's, letting his eyes slide closed. He laughed quietly, breathing in Clark's scent. He always smell faintly of cinnamon and apple pie. "You can't own Death, idiot," he said, but his voice held no venom.

Clark kissed him briefly again. "But I can. Courtesy of your sister. She wrapped you up all nice, just… for… me. And what a gift you were."

Bruce shook his head. His fingers tightened in Clark's hair.

"Idiot."

* * *

 _A/N ~ Ahh, sorry guys this took a while. I've been on vacation and had to write like crazy before that, so I never got a chance to update. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!_

 _-J_


End file.
